


Like the Old Saying Goes...

by Westie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Murder Mystery, Nothing like a good police territorial pissing contest, The actual murder will happen later, i'm awful at tags, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23736082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westie/pseuds/Westie
Summary: You can't make an omelette  without breaking a few eggs.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Like the Old Saying Goes...

**Author's Note:**

> SO this is one of my first attempts at my story from scratch, with my own story and own characters at everything. I'm still very new to writing, so bear that in mind! That being said, I hope you'll enjoy it!

She hated this. Hated being chosen for this assignment. Because as anyone who knew Dalia Maywood would tell you if you asked, she absolutely hated fancy get-togethers, but even more so, she absolutely hated wearing dresses of any kind. 

Yet here she was, attending some kind of fundraiser event of the fancy kind, wearing an even fancier dress. Her only solace was that dark red was her color, which even matched her auburn hair, and the dark red lipstick she was wearing. The only thing that revealed that she wasn't just there as a normal guest was the earpiece in her ear, cleverly hidden behind some strands of her hair. 

She could hear the voice of one of her coworkers in the earpiece, although she had to admit that she was tuning him out while she was scanning the ballroom, looking for their mark. She was deep in thought, only snapping out of it when she felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to spin around and face whoever was approaching her, only relaxing once she realized that she was standing in front of Marius Bailey, one of her coworkers. 

"Jesus Christ, Marius! I nearly had a heart attack!" She hissed, keeping her voice low so as to not cause unnecessary upset among the other guests. "Uh, I'm sorry ma'am, it's just th--" be barely managed to get out, the sound of a scream from one of the nearby rooms startling both of them, causing them to run towards the room. Or, awkwardly walk in Dalia's case, since the dress was restricting her movement more than just a bit. There was a man on the floor, and although he looked quite worse for wear, he also looked alive, what with how he was trying to regulate his breathing, and using his hand to stop the blood from flowing out of his nose.

In the other end of the room was a woman, holding a tray of appetisers, making Dalia realize that she was probably one of the waitresses. She went, as cast as her dress would allow her to, over to the man to give him a hand to get up. 

"That looks painful," she said as she looked at how the man's nose looked to be broken, as well as how he had a gash over his right eyebrow. "Can you tell me your name?" She then asked, looking in her clutch purse for her ID. "Detective Maywood. I'm from Charsville police department," she explained as she showed him her police identification. "Can you tell me your name?"

Her words caused an expression of confusion to settle on the man's face, and he slowly snaked a hand into his pocket, pulling his own ID up and showing her, while still trying to stop the blood with the other hand. "Detective Harrison, from Markson CID," he explained, the confusion evident in his voice, and now, also evident on Dalia's face, as they said in unison... "Why are you here?"


End file.
